


scrapbook (d-side)

by SkadizzleRoss



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AP700 Android, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Androids Have Genitalia (Detroit: Become Human), Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Cock Warming, Committed Relationship, Connor Deserves Happiness, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Equipped Connor, Exhibitionism, Frottage, Group Sex, Interface Sexin', Ken Doll Android Anatomy | Androids Have No Genitalia (Detroit: Become Human), Ken Doll Nines, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, POV Upgraded Connor | RK900, Polyamory, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), RK1700 - Freeform, Romance, Rutting, Soft Upgraded Connor | RK900, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Upgraded Connor | RK900, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has Feelings, Voyeurism, Well He's Got the Top Spirit Anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 22:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22005436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkadizzleRoss/pseuds/SkadizzleRoss
Summary: “Do you not have--?” Connor began hesitantly, blush creeping down his neck.“No, that’s... not standard to my model.”“Oh,” Connor echoed back.Nines’ follow-up question of “Have you ever used it?” resulted in Connor kicking him out of the room entirely, along with a shouted, “This better not be in your book.”---RK1700 romantic adventures between Nines and his... rather more equipped predecessor. Nines is weighing his options on modifications, so why not have a test run through the magic of interface?
Relationships: Connor/Upgraded Connor | RK900
Comments: 5
Kudos: 149





	scrapbook (d-side)

**Author's Note:**

> CosmosCorpse is 100% responsible for the absolutely _atrocious_ puns surrounding this fic. XD
> 
> This is the ~~b-side~~ d-side to [scrapbook](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21955543).
> 
> Tl;dr on that one: fearing Amanda's influence on him, Connor fled Detroit post-revolution and found a life of quiet isolation in Wyoming. Four years later, Nines - a deviant born post-revolution - was sent by Jericho to interview him. He ends up doing quite a bit more than interview him. :)c
> 
> Herein, Nines and Connor finally have a _dickscussion_ about Nines' current and future equipment plans.

He was well aware of the _how -_ the programming, the various phases of it, the rise and crescendo and fall - it was simply the _why_ that was missing. The tactile rationale.

He’d always been curious, but in a purely academic way. Sex was simply another outlet of expression and exploration for androids, one he hadn’t been equipped for.

In a sense, Connor was the perfect outlet for that curiosity. Knee slotting neatly into the space between his thighs, blush rising on his cheeks as he pressed harder into the hollow of Nines’ hip. Both of them aware of the growing weight of his arousal, there.

Nines traced a thumb over the close crop of Connor’s hair as he murmured, “I guess it works.”

Connor stilled, looking abruptly embarrassed. But he didn’t pull away; caught in the warm exhalations of Nines’ breath on his lips. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t--”

“Why?”

“It’s... rude, isn’t it? You don’t--”

“Have a dick?” Nines huffed as Connor’s blush deepened, and drew him back down into a kiss. (A touch of his tongue just there, to the sensitive skin of his lips, and Connor’s hips were canting forward again, seeking the pressure and heat of him.) Nines smiled as they parted. “I’m still entertained.”

There was something _fascinating_ to it. Connor, who approached everything with such meticulous control, shifting against him in a slow, insistent pressure. Muscles bunching and slackening beneath his palm as he slipped a hand beneath the thick fabric of his sweater, dragging another wavering exhale from Connor.

Connor burying his face in the crook of his neck, as his rutting became more frenetic. Slow, shaking exhales, as he finished.

It was very-- interesting.

Worthy of further exploration, he decided, as he pressed a kiss to the yellow-gold of Connor’s LED and murmured, “There’s a flaw in your contract.”

“What’s that?” Connor answered, curled against his side.

“I’m supposed to leave.”

“I believe you already voided the contract,” Connor noted.

“So we’re open to renegotiation, then?”

“I suppose we are.”

+++

A different kiss, in a different place: Nines' apartment in Detroit. Left a journalist with only a professional interest in romance and came back with an android in his arms. (In stasis, but nonetheless.)

The taste of lingering Thirium 310, lighting old analytical pathways.

RK800 #313 248 317 -52.

 _Connor_ and _his_. Confirmed in easy, thoughtless song through their entwined hands.

>> _Are we still renegotiating?_ Connor asked.

Nines tasted _lust_ in a way he hadn’t before, the warm spark of Connor’s arousal across the line. A physical, tight bundle of nerves, lit hot in his belly. He smiled, dizzied. > _I suppose so_.

>> _Good._

+++

He mapped Connor out in exquisite detail. Knew every corner of his skin, every imperfection; pleasure shared evenly between them. He knew where the touch of teeth or tongue could spark electric, knew the clench and pull of release as he fucked Connor to ecstasy by whatever means he could.

But there were still other avenues of curiosity to be explored.

A question pressed into Connor’s skin, while he lay lax in a tangle of sheets: > _I want to know what it’s like._

Connor answered with a lazy curl of a question, but he understood his intention.

He offered a suggestion in return - tentative, uncertain. >> _We’ll have to be careful who we choose, of course._

> _I’m a good judge of character._

A gold curl of drowsy amusement, as he slung a leg over Nines’ thigh. >> _Are you?_

+++

When he told Connor he’d found someone, Connor asked, >> _What’s their name?_

> _Doesn’t matter._

_> > Tonight?_

> _You’ll find out._

_> > Tease._

+++

A Tuesday afternoon, in point of fact. Connor slid the apartment door open and froze at the sight, just as he was toeing off his shoes: Nines and another android, sitting respectfully apart at the kitchen table. A few coffee mugs short of a professional afternoon meeting.

The newcomer was dressed lightly. Sleeves rolled back to the elbow, revealing the bright feather-tracings of etching tattoos, rendering the synth skin semi-translucent. Some of the etchings following the sharper lines of the underlying plate seams, while others wildly diverged. Similar abstract lines followed the curvature of his throat, up beneath blond hair cropped close. His facesculpt was custom, imperfect; a purposeful meeting of human and android aesthetic, shot through with subtle iridescent hints to the architecture underneath.

> _Nines--_ Connor warned, even as he greeted the android warmly.

>> _He’s stepped quite a ways from the corporate design,_ Nines noted, mildly reproachful. >> _He’s only an AP700 in name._

> _I’m not being ignorant, Nines. You know what I mean._

>> _He isn’t one of your groupies. You needn’t worry._ Nines shifted back in his chair, standing as the AP stood. >> _He’s promised to treat you with the utmost disrespect._

The AP didn’t acknowledge his greeting with much more than a nod. The hand he offered was already peeled back to the wrist, a quick interface; the passage of a contract, standard protocol.

Nines watched Connor process through their terms and boundaries.

Felt a static snap of anticipation, seeing Connor nod.

There was little preamble. The AP guided Connor back into the wall, firm hands on his hip, his chest; slotting a thigh between Connor’s legs, he hooked his fingers behind Connor’s jaw and kissed him hard, catching the small hitch of breath when his palm grazed Connor’s crotch.

His fingers moved in quick, firm circles, pushing Connor to a mounting pressure that had him whining, back arching, hands hovering indecisively over the AP’s hips.

The AP pinned Connor’s wrists above his head before he pressed in, letting Connor ride the slow friction of his thigh. Nines took a seat on the couch to observe this. He found himself shifting restlessly at that small sound in the back of Connor’s throat, the one that always correlated to a hard tug at the base of his cock.

Just enough to get him breathing fast, his lips wet, parted.

Then the AP was murmuring, “Don’t move,” as he pulled away, leaving Connor arched and flushed against the wall.

The AP approached Nines, instead. Nines moved to rise, but the AP shook his head; kept him seated with a firm hand at the juncture of neck and shoulder.

“You’re going to use that beautiful mouth of yours,” he said, his voice even and mellifluous. “And then I’m going to fuck your boyfriend until he’s screaming your name. Agreeable?”

Nines nodded, mouth flooding with artificial saliva even at the thought of how hard Connor likely was. Legs spread, shoulders bearing hard into the wall; all Nines could hear and think of as he slipped the android’s pants free, taking his hardening cock in hand.

The AP allowed him to do as he wanted, for a few moments; making use of his hand and his mouth, sucking and the slow drag of his tongue before he was taking his full length, the occasional clench of his fingers on the back of Nines’ neck in approval.

His grip grew tighter as he pushed to the back of Nines’ throat. Held his head there, as he reached full arousal. Pressure on the brink of discomfort, but he ignored warnings of temperature aberrations, halted ventilation.

The AP pulled away, tracing the line of wet on Nines’ chin with approval.

He pulled Connor by the wrist towards the next room, before he looked at Nines. “Undress.”

This was familiar territory, Connor’s movements fast and sure, even as Nines moved with a care that had Connor’s expression shifting into impatient irritation. The slow drag of fabric down the back of his thighs, the graze of his wrist against his erection as he reached up to slide his shirt free.

Connor’s hands worked deftly at Nines’ pants, sliding across the curve of his ass and down; his left hand pausing for a slow and languorous dip down the smooth plating of his pubic plate, before tracing a bright, sensitive line down his inner thigh.

> _Tease_ , Nines chided, even as he nearly writhed at the close proximity of him: warm exhalations, pupils blown wide, in the suspended milliseconds before he was kissing him deeply.

Still a touch of uncertainty, a stiffness to Connor that Nines eased with the slow pass of his fingers. >> _You’re certain?_

> _Yes. I want to feel you, in every way._

Connor hummed, tracing a quick line of bright interface, letting Nines feel the heavy weight of his arousal, there-and-gone.

Familiar explorations of memorized topography. The android at their backs forgotten, until the AP was tracing a hand up the back of Connor’s thigh, making him inhale sharply. The android gripped Connor’s hip, pulling him onto his back.

Leaving Nines as he was, propped on his elbows as he watched.

Watched Connor’s legs splay wide - strange, but fascinating, seeing those small minute trembles play out without him as the android worked him open. One finger, and then two; brisk and sure, just enough to get him dripping.

The android straddled him, guided his knees up with an easy hand. Connor glanced to Nines, a moment’s uncertainty.

> _Beautiful like this,_ Nines murmured, and Connor eased. He wanted to reach, to taste - but he waited, as they’d agreed.

The AP reached for Connor’s cock, pumping it slowly, idly. Connor canted his hips up, seeking more. The AP leaned close, waiting for some unspoken confirmation.

Asked, and granted, and Connor curled his fists tight in the sheets as the AP buried himself deep.

Nines caught the shift in Connor’s throat as he tried and failed to withhold a low noise, the AP buried himself in full and waited, letting the insistent stretch drag a breathless moan from him. He pulled Connor’s legs up further, letting them rest against his shoulders. Allowing him to press his hips more firmly against him.

Strange and dizzying, to watch this play out from a few feet away. Seeing Connor catch his lip in his teeth and gasp, “ _Please--_ ” before the AP began to move, slow and easy. Connor watching this, half-lidded and lusting.

The AP passed a single look Nines’ way, before he began to thrust in earnest. Snapping the tense line of Connor’s back into a tighter confirmation, his head falling back as gasps kindled into moans.

Connor looking to him, reaching a hand; the AP grabbing it tightly, pinning his wrists to the sheets as he fucked into him harder still.

Connor shaking apart, thighs trembling and hands spasming in the sheets. His head fell back as he cried out sharply and finished.

Trembling still, as the AP pulled away, running an approving thumb through the pearled strings of cum on his chest. He cupped a hand on Connor’s cheek, pressing the thumb against his lips, urging him to suck. Looked to Nines as he asked, “How many times do you want him to come?”

“Until he’s undone,” Nines replied. The look Connor gave him - hunger and _want_ , even as he’s looking reproachful - was one he’d save away for later.

The AP drew his fingers away from Connor’s mouth, leaning in to lick his lips clean; then he rolled Connor onto his stomach, pushing his legs wide and slotting his knees just behind. Murmuring, “Generous of him, isn’t it? Letting me use you like this.”

“Yes,” Connor breathed, as the AP took hold of his cock again. Humming approval at how hard he’d already become.

Nines rose onto his knees, restless with the lack of touch even as the AP was building unbearable voyeuristic pleasure from this. Nearly undone just with the _look_ Connor was giving him.

That old familiar song, making him want to tangle his hands in Connor’s hair, bury his teeth in the line of his throat. _For you, anything for you_.

And then Connor’s mouth spread in that wide _oh_ as the AP pressed into him again. Fucking him hard, chasing his own orgasm with a relentless pace; burning another orgasm from Connor nonetheless with his hand, Connor turning his face into the sheets and _shouting_ as he followed the AP.

The AP allowed Connor to reach, snag Nines’ fingers and bury him in that muted wash of comedown pleasure, hazy and buzzing.

To feel Connor shift uncertainly as the AP kept his grip on Connor’s hips, kept his softening cock buried in him; feel him moan as he began to _fill_ again, the warm drip of synthetic cum down his thigh as the AP grew to fullness inside of him.

A punishing pace, this time, sparking, blinding strikes against the bundled wiring of his prostate; what had been designed as a simple feedback loop, a careful mimicry of realism, growing into something all-consuming within deviant code. Cramping, rippling pleasure, seizing at the muscles of his stomach with every hard press of the AP’s cock.

When the AP withdrew partially, found that spot and drove into it with short, shallow thrusts - Connor was reduced to spasming incoherency, every thought shaken apart on the relentless rhythm. Finishing a third time and left adrift, his systems bright with raw white noise.

>> _Move back against the headboard,_ the AP said softly, and Nines did. Whatever the AP said to Connor, he also said in silence; drew a small nod from him, as Connor pushed to his palms and crawled to Nines, settling between his thighs.

 _Oh_ , Nines thought, still drunk on the secondhand white noise of Connor’s orgasm. Connor’s hand conformed into the hollow of his hip as he bent to the blank plate between Nines’ legs and began.

The brush of a fingertip, a chaste kiss. Hand slipping down to follow the cleft of his ass as he traced his tongue up, the slow drag of teeth on his descent; nipping and sucking at the synthskin there.

The sensory input redoubled as he opened a line of interface, allowing that wet and used sensation to carry through; the hot damp between his thighs, touching himself and tracing Nines’ pubic plate in turn.

Connor’s whine vibrated in Nines’ substructure as the AP moved forward, slipping a few fingers into him. Casual exploration, as he watched Nines over the trembling musculature of Connor’s back.

The AP asked him, this time: >> _Are you ready?_

> _Yes._

The AP’s touch was unfamiliar, in every way that their skin and structure were much the same; steady and sure grip on Nines’ thigh, as Connor rose up unbidden, straddling his hips and leaning into his chest, finding his mouth with his own. Kissing him slow and lazy, open-mouthed and breathing hot exhalations. Tasting of the AP, of Nines, of himself.

He murmured, “Nines--” in that hitched and desperate tone as Nines pulled him in tighter still, wanting the full weight of him, his cock pressed hard between them. His head fell back as Nines mouthed at the line of his throat, and the AP’s grip shifted on his thigh, opening a new interface.

A careful absence, wholly entrenched in the experience; sending only raw sensation, divorced of the AP’s independent wants and needs. Nothing but Connor between them, Connor gripping hard at Nines’ back as the AP pushed into him a final time.

Nines unhinging, _gasping_ at the feel of it: enveloped in Connor. It wasn’t a singular thing - the heat or the tight press of him, the way synthetic muscle gripped tight around their cock as they moved. The rising and shuddering of his ribs beneath Nines’ palms and the hard twitch of his cock between them, as they were enveloped, again and again.

Every inch of them _lit,_ all of it narrowed to that single overbright point. An overwhelming _need_ to bury, faster, chase that rhythm harder and harder, fingers splaying wide as Connor choked, “Nn--”, Nines answering in broken fricative syllables, fingers clenching tight in Connor’s hair before he scraped together a desperate, “ _Fuck_ , please--” and the AP answered in kind.

Connor was clenching tight and _keening, “Nines--_ ” as they came unspooled, a sudden and blinding burst that tore through them, relentless.

He returned to time lost, the heavy warmth of Connor slack against him.

The AP traced a hand down Connor’s spine, leaned in to press a final chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

He imagined his voice frayed, even over the wireless: > _Thank you._

>> _With a view like this, what can I say_ , the AP answered breezily, making a sweeping exploration of Nines’ mouth before pulling away. >> _My pleasure._

He dressed unobtrusively, his departure lost in the pleasant warmth still spinning through Nines’ systems. He waited, feeling the slow rise and fall of Connor’s respiration; loathe to move, but he could feel Connor beginning to come back online, piecemeal murmurings and small shifts of muscle.

He caught Connor beneath the legs and lifted him, carrying him to the bathroom.

He settled into the bath, arranged Connor on top of him as it filled. Let Connor wake slow, as he lifted cupfuls of water over his back. Connor tucked his face against the crook of his neck, shifting to slot one leg more neatly between his thighs. His voice was soft as he murmured, “Still entertained?”

Nines hummed, burying his face in Connor’s hair. > _Very._

>> _Have you decided?_

> _You made a very convincing argument._

Connor smiled against his skin, nipping lightly as he sent a small pocket of through the touch of his lips. Reds and golds, warmth and comfort and desire, a nonverbal wash of _want this want you in whatever way._

Love, and love, and love.

Nines hummed again, sinking into the weight of Connor, here, close and warm and his. Answered in wordless confirmation across the line, as they folded into each other in that perfect conformation.


End file.
